To me there needs no stone to tell, 'Tis Nothing that I loved so well. 3. Yet did I love thee to the last As fervently as thou, Who didst not change through all the past, And canst not alter now. The love where Death has set his seal, Nor age can chill, nor rival steal, Nor falsehood disavow: And, what were worse, thou canst not see Or wrong, or change, or fault in me. 4. The better days of life were ours; The worst can be but mine: The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers, Shall never more be thine. The silence of that dreamless sleep I envy now too much to weep; Nor need I to repine That all those charms have pass'd away; I might have watch'd through long decay. 5. The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd Must fall the earliest prey; Though by no hand untimely snatch'd, The leaves must drop away: And yet it were a greater grief To watch it withering, leaf by leaf, Since earthly eye but ill can bear To trace the change to foul from fair. 6. I know not if I could have borne To see thy beauties fade; The night that follow'd such a morn Thy day without a cloud hath past, As stars that shoot along the sky Shine brightest as they fall from high. 7. As once I wept, if I could weep My tears might well be shed, To think I was not near to keep One vigil o'er thy bed; To gaze, how fondly! on thy face, Uphold thy drooping head; And show that love, however vain, 8. Yet how much less it were to gain, Though thou hast left me free, The loveliest things that still remain, Than thus remember thee! The all of thine that cannot die Through dark and dread Eternity, Returns again to me, And more thy buried love endears Than aught, except its living years. STANZAS. 1.. If sometimes in the haunts of men Thine image from my breast may fade, The lonely hour presents again The semblance of thy gentle shade: And now that sad and silent hour Thus much of thee can still restore, And sorrow unobserved may pour The plaint she dare not speak before. 2. Oh, pardon that in crowds awhile, I waste one thought I owe to thee, And, self-condemn'd, appear to smile, Unfaithful to thy Memory! Nor deem that memory less dear, That then I seem not to repine; I would not fools should overhear One sigh that should be wholly thine. VOL. IV. Ꭱ . 3. If not the goblet pass unquaff'd, The cup must hold a deadlier draught, From all her troubled visions free, I'd dash to earth the sweetest bowl That drown'd a single thought of thee. 4. For wert thou vanish'd from my mind, Where could my vacant bosom turn? And who would then remain behind To honour thine abandon'd Urn? No, No-it is my sorrow's pride "Tis meet that I remember still. 5. For well I know, that such had been Thy gentle care for him, who now |